My kids think I am a rebel. My son calls me a “free bird,” but he has always been the nice one. He is more political than the others. The truth is that my kids need to calm down and get under control.
They think my mouth needs a bar of soap jammed into it. I am not the worst talker for sure. In fact there are swear words that I don’t ever use, but I do color my language every now and then with a “hell” and “damn.”
Then there is my driving. I have to say I don’t understand kids these days. This younger generation is weird. Like for example, they are really slow in wanting to get their licenses. I thought at first that it was just my children who were truly weird in not wanting to grab that freedom the moment they had the chance, but turns out that other people’s children are just as bad.
I do not understand wanting to be dependent on another person. I don’t understand not wanting to go out. I tell my kids they are weird, and they tell me to stop driving so fast.
At least two of my children drive five miles under the speed limit!!! Seriously! Two of my children, over twelve hours away, made the journey to visit me—and yes I loved that they came, but they drove five miles under the speed limit. I would have shot myself if I was their passenger. That is irritating. Where did they come from?
My children are church going. They think that I should be. I am glad they are church going. That will keep them doing the right things and having a good life. But as for me going to church…. did that for 41 years and I met my quota. No more for me. Even when I think about going, I think about choosing to hear a sermon versus sleeping. Bedtime for me! (even if I am going to be damned) I do remember that when I did go, I slept most the time, so what’s the difference?
My children hate it when I’m not married. I date too much. I chase too many men. For the record, the men chase me. I just make myself available. My kids don’t date enough. What’s wrong with dating? It’s fun. Well sometimes.
And it would be nice if my children dated more and thought less about settling down and having babies and not think their mom is weird because she keeps doing the old fashion thing of marrying. (Okay, maybe it’s not so old fashioned to do it over and over in the same lifetime, but you get the drift.)
My oldest tells me that I married too old of men. She says it’s sick. See, trying to parent the parent again. I would never imagine saying that to my mom, but kids these days. But back to her point of me marrying too old of men. Well of course I marry older men. Have you seen any X generation good looking single men anywhere? Anyone? Anyone?
Not to mention how many 40-year-old guys could command my respect? Point delivered.
What I find amusing about all this is the fact that my kids really do try to parent me. It’s funny. It’s funny that I am the one that they are trying to reel in, when of course that is impossible. Instead, I hope someday they will enjoy the fact that their mom was a “free bird” and wanted them to be just as rebellious, and to be their authentic selves like their mom.
